May We Meet Again
by LaughingSenselessly
Summary: Post Season 2 finale. A look into Clarke's and Bellamy's heads after their goodbye. Abby asks Bellamy where Clarke is. ONE SHOT.


As Clarke walked away from Camp Jaha, from the happy ever after she had dreamed of for so long, she heard his voice, husky with emotion, repeat her words: "May we meet again."

At those words, she paused in her stride. Just for a second, she imagined turning around, running back into his arms, and going inside with him. Having a drink with Bellamy, talking to her mother, to Monty, to Jasper, to Raven, to everyone she had dreamed of seeing together. Having a home here.

But she couldn't. Because when she looked at the people she loved, all she could see were the faces of children, of innocent men and women with their heads lying on long tables, of abandoned soccer balls, of Maya, so small and empty-looking in death.

She couldn't even look at Bellamy properly without thinking about how she had made a decision at TonDC knowing it would kill his sister.

Perhaps it was selfish, leaving this empire on Bellamy's shoulders, but she continued walking. Every step hurt in her heart, but she already hurt so much that it didn't seem to matter anymore.

When she got to the treeline, she turned and looked one last time at Camp Jaha. She couldn't even see Bellamy anymore. Bellamy, her co-leader, the only one she trusted to keep the rest of them safe.

When she thought of him, she couldn't help the tremendous swelling of fondness in her heart, but she didn't care to examine what they might mean. Because it didn't matter.

He tried to help her, relieve her of her guilt, but she shouldered it anyway. Bellamy, who had done so much, didn't need to bear it anymore. She would bear it for all of them so they could be happy.

And that could only happen if she left.

So she wiped at her tears and turned her back on them.

* * *

She was his co-leader, his best friend, his confidante, his partner in so many ways, and she was-

Gone.

Bellamy never figured himself to be a sad drunk, but here he was, with the half-empty cup of moonshine sitting in front of him, sitting in the Canteen where everyone was, everyone was laughing and talking and reuniting and riding on the exhilaration because hell, they had won- and it was over-

It was over. His hand tightened around the cup. He wasn't going to pretend like he felt the same guilt that Clarke did.

He was somehow able to cope. Maybe it was the words Clarke had whispered to him, so long ago- _You're forgiven_\- that had helped him stand again when he had felt so broken, words that he whispered internally until he was able to climb from the abyss. But it didn't work for her, because she was all logic and reason, rationality-_this had to be done_\- but it had to be done because they had no other choice, the only alternative being their doom. So she had pulled the lever and he had pulled with her, and they had both tumbled over the edge-

And he felt it, he felt the weight of all the lives they had ruthlessly taken away, and yet when he glanced over his shoulder and saw his sister and Lincoln sitting on stools, holding hands, Monty and Harper talking over drinks, so many of his people that he had been able to save- he knew it was worth it to sacrifice his soul for them. But then he saw Jasper slumped in a corner, not unlike himself, eyes hollow and red-rimmed, and he felt the weight of it hit him again- and yet- He would do it again and again and again to save his people.

But Clarke- oh, god, _Clarke_\- so kind and loving and compassionate- he saw how it absolutely destroyed her.

And seeing that, it destroyed him.

Seeing her walk away, bearing the guilt of all the lives taken on Mount Weather, it was too much. So he had headed into Camp, wearing a brave face, and followed Clarke's advice to have one for the both of them.

And then some.

He had no idea when he'd ever see her again, even if he'd ever _see_ this girl again. And his heart clenched at the thought- he couldn't bear it. Impossibly, over the course of a few months, she had become such a huge part of his life and such a huge influence in shaping his own identity that he wasn't entirely sure how he would be able to function without being able to depend on her steady presence.

He'd have to learn.

"Bellamy?"

He lifted his head, slightly. It was Miller, standing at his table. "Where's Clarke?"

Bellamy found himself unable to respond, mouth opening and closing.

Miller was examining him far too closely. "Clarke's mom is asking for her in the med bay," he continued. "Did you see her?"

Bellamy's throat felt too dry all of a sudden. What should he say? What should he do? He hadn't thought this far ahead, goddamn it-

Miller seemed to notice his hands shaking. "Bellamy?" He asked uncertainly. "How much did you drink?"

Bellamy sort of half-laughed because hell, he didn't know. "Let's just say this wasn't the first," he said with a grim sort of smile, and then tried to pull himself together. He stood on shaky legs. "Go have a drink, Miller. I'll find Clarke," he lied.

Miller looked uncertain, but backed away to go join Monty and Harper. Bellamy downed the rest of the moonshine in the dented metal cup, set it down and went to the med bay. Forever he was the bearer of bad news, and he had no idea how he was going to tell her mother that her daughter had gone somewhere that none of them could follow?

He found Abby in bed, face pale, with Kane at her bedside.

Her eyes opened, and it startled him suddenly how they reminded him of Clarke's- and then she spoke. "Where's Clarke?"

He opened his mouth- he shook his head helplessly- because he had no idea what he would say, barely standing there as he was, barely keeping the tears from gathering in his eyes-

Perhaps she was able to read the answer in his eyes, because then her voice sounded much less tired, much more alert. "Bellamy, where's Clarke?" she asked, and her voice broke and in that moment Bellamy knew, he knew that Clarke's mother knew, and all he could do was shake his head, staring at her and trying to convey what he was thinking.

"Bellamy, where is Clarke?" Abby Griffin cried, trying to sit up in bed. Kane pushed her down into the pillows but she fought against him and the medics that rushed to her side, eyes only on Bellamy. "Clarke," she said, as if it were a prayer.

He finally, finally found the courage to speak. "I tried," he said in a near-whisper, swallowing thickly. "I tried to get her to stay."

Abby's demeanor changed then; she broke down, sagging into her mattress at those words that confirmed her fears. "It wasn't her fault, why did she leave? Why?" she cried. "It wasn't her fault."

But that was such a lie, thought Bellamy. Because it _was_ her fault. And that was the most tragic thing of all.

Bellamy only dimly heard Abby ordering a search party into the woods as all he could do was turn on the heel and walk mechanically away. He knew they wouldn't find Clarke.

He wasn't sure that even _Clarke_ would be able to find Clarke now.

And he still heard Abby behind him as he walked away, her voice accusing amongst the desperation, jabbing straight into his heart:

"_Why couldn't you make her stay_?"

That was the question that would likely haunt him for the rest of his days, because the only answer he could think of right then was

He wasn't _enough_ to make her stay.

* * *

**A/N: The finale ENDED me! Bellarke feels too much to handle honestly... :'( Anyway if you enjoyed this I really love reviews!**


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